


Matchmakers || T'Challa x Reader

by Singingpeonies



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Erik Grows Up in Wakanda, F/M, Reader Insert, Shuri beats everyone, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:36:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14055093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singingpeonies/pseuds/Singingpeonies
Summary: AU where Erik grew up in Wakanda. He still goes to MIT and meets Reader there where they become best friends. Erik is tired of T'Challa and Reader not listening to him about how perfect they are together so enlist Shuri's help in trapping them at Readers job at an African American art gallery.





	Matchmakers || T'Challa x Reader

Trapped. Like a fucking mouse. Or maybe a cat in heat was more appropriate for the situation.

“I could break us out but I am sure you would not want the doors broken.” The deep accented voice behind you is closer than you remember and you turn to see the King of Wakanda looking at the alarm system. “Nor do you want the authorities. There is no, REAL, emergency.”

“Yeah. My office is just through there and has a small kitchen and bathroom. I have bottled water and some things to eat as well Your Highness.” You respond quietly. While mentally vowing to murder Erik on sight.

“Aye. Call me T'Challa. Then we will, rest. My sister and cousin will tire of their game and release us. They can not very well go back to Wakanda without its King.” You laugh at that and he grins at you. “Tell me about yourself. About your work. I have to say your unique approach is fascinating to me.” He says sitting on a bench in front of your favorite piece.

“Well. I want people to look at something from history, the past, and not only see the past in it. I want them to see its imprint on the future. How it could affect them. And their children and their lives. How the world we live in is a product of the choices people in the past made by not thinking of the future.” You explain staring at the wall.

“That is a beautiful way to look at history. An artist point of view.” He says and you look over to find him staring at you. You thank God for your dark complexion that you can feel heating. “Erik was correct. You are…very passionate. You met in school yes?”

You clear your throat and latch onto the common link between you two.

“Erik is great. He was a lifesaver in college. He toughened me up. I was a artsy history and architecture nerd that all the tech science kids hated. I was kicking their asses in their choosen fields and my own. I became a target until Erik showed up. Loud and royal and crude and refused to let me be bullied. He taught me how to value myself and my work.” You say fondly. “He’s my best friend.”

“He used to come home for long holidays and tell us stories about you.”

“Oh God no.” You cover your face in embarrassment.

T'Challa chuckles deep and long.

“I believe my favorite is still when you corrected a teacher and they offered to let you teach the class. Erik could barely keep a straight face when he told us you accepted and explained the chapter better than your instructor.” 

You groaned. “OK look. He was being a dick. He kept trying to explain it with the book. And I bet your cousin didn’t tell you that he encouraged me.”

“I was intrigued by my cousins friend even then.” He says tugging your hands down. “Be proud of your boldness.”

“It’s easier when someone is backing you up. I’ve always been better at letting my art speak for me.” You say quietly letting your hands tangle with his. 

He squeezes and stands leading you around the exhibit. You spend hours explaining the artist and the work featured. He gave input and discussed influence and vision. Soon you found yourself leading him to your office. 

“This feels like you. Warm. Inviting.” He says softly taking in the Grey walls except for the burnt orange behind your desk and the white everywhere else. 

“Thank you. It’s been home for a long time. It will be different in about six weeks.” You try for nonchalant but the ache in your belly is deep.

“Why is that?” He is flipping through your personal sketchbook and you’re trying your hardest not to snatch it away. Having the King of Wakanda, your best friends cousin, flipping through your drawings was nerve racking.

“I’ve been let go. When this exhibit is dismantled I’m to oversee it and then I’m done here.” You answer moving to your fridge and pulling out some fruit, cheese, and chilled water bottles. You lay it all out and begin munching on the grapes. It’s been quiet and you look up to find T'Challa starring at a page in your book. “Your highness?…T'Challa?”

“This is…beautiful. But wrong.” He says. His body is tense and his voice is tight. “This is you…but it is…angry.”

He looks at you and you’re shocked to find fierce desire looking at you. He turns the book to you and the sketch of yourself is there between you. 

You’re naked. Nipples pointed in arousal. Your face is tilted back mouth hanging open. You’d colored your skin a golden brown and your toes are curled and painted a bright yellow but the red and black painted at your center are in fact angry. 

“A womans pleasure is not aggressive act of anguish. It is a primal joy. I do not mean to tell you how to paint your art. But I do believe that the artist is misunderstanding her subject.” He growls.

“I’m misunderstanding myself?” You ask leaning back in your chair. The air is thick. You don’t remember shutting your office door.

“You misunderstand what you are capable of. What you have depicted as harsh and shameful is worshipped and blessed. A gift.” He’s moving, closer glaring at the page. “This woman is taking from herself. No affection or admiration…” 

T'Challa’s eyes snap up to meet yours as he drops the book into the chair next to you. “There should be.”

You’re frozen. “T-that’s how you see me. I don’t see that.”

He falls to his knees in front of you and how the fuck did this happen? 

“Let me show you.” His intentions are unmistakable. “Take off your clothes.”

You hesitate for a long moment and slowly stand putting his face at a level with your crotch with the aide of your heels. Your dress is easy enough to unzip at the side and tug off. You stand there in your bra and underwear towering over him but still feeling small. 

“Look at you. Still so timid in your power. Do you not see where I am for you? On my knees. 

Begging to pleasure you with my lips and tongue and fingers to your most intimate place. I want to worship Bast at your opening and thank her for your pleasure as I taste it.” His hands grip your hips. He noses the crotch of your panties and you gasp.

“Will you let me show you the stars…”. He asks you. You nod as he drags your lace down your legs. 

•••••••••

Erik is sitting in the car with his hand firmly over Shuri’s eyes as he shuts of their feed to the security cameras. “Welp…we’ll come back in the morning.”

“Ewwww…” Shuri whines. She sobers when she realizes that she and Erik had completed their task. “We did it! NOW can I go beat these inferior robots.”

“Deal is a deal Princess. Let’s go find the robotics lab.”

“YES!”

**Author's Note:**

> AN 1: Shuri kicks every ass at MIT. Twice. And Erik just quietly stands behind her, arms crossed proud as fuck. 
> 
> AN 2: Welp no Smut. Maybe I’ll write a part two and that’ll be Smut and Dom!T'Challa. Idk. This is a mess


End file.
